rainbow baby

“She went from surpassing all her milestones to not being able to walk, drink, or eat. I was tired of going home from the hospital with no answers, the typical run around from doctors. One day, with 10 residents, 5 doctors, and 4 nurses in front of me, I said, and I quote, ‘Discharge her again and I promise I’ll sue every single person standing in this room.’ Needless to say, they ran every test. I now know that instead of her burying me, I’ll be burying her.”

“My heart was telling me she was beyond tired. She can only handle so much. Selfishly I wanted to keep her, regardless if that meant sitting in a hospital or not. But the pain my baby endured was enough to rip my heart out. After a long, hard fight, she left us to go to heaven, a place we all want to be. She was only 10.5 months old. We will indeed see Berkeley again one day, and oh my goodness, what a perfect day that will be.”

“The pain got so bad. I pulled over on the side of the freeway and called my dad, begging him to come get me. I became confused, disoriented. I remember thinking I could understand why my mother took her own life. It made me realize I either had to fight for my own health, or continue to fade away. I had to be stronger than my mom was. I couldn’t stop fighting.”

“I come home terrified, not knowing what to expect. I walk into each room looking for him, nowhere to be found. There are cops at the door. My heart sinks in panic. The cops pull him out, still alive. He stated he was ‘cleaning his gun,’ and he wanted to ‘hide in the closet.’ WHAT?! ‘Ma’am, you need to get away from him. This is not safe.’ Then I met Michael. I forgot what laughter felt like until that moment.”

“If she complains she’s exhausted, she doesn’t need a lecture about, ‘How they’re only little once.’ If you see a mother giving her kid some juice, don’t assume she’s beer bonging those kids with red cordial every day. It’s probably a treat. Sit down with your judgement.”

“We stood in a field having our gender reveal photos taken. I was 17 weeks pregnant. We shared our announcement photos. A year later to the day, he was gone. We said that was it, we were done. But, 11 months after he left this earth, his sister was due to arrive.”

“‘Babe, babe,’ my wife whispered. She was holding a pregnancy test. ‘Is this a prank?,’ I thought. She placed her palm across her mouth. She nodded as my jaw dropped. ‘Yes, I’m really—,’ Before she could finish her sentence, I picked her up, spun her in circles while showering her with kisses. ‘Oh my Gosh,’ I repeated, at least 10 times.”

“I gently hugged my daughter. To be honest, it’s a question I’ve thought about daily for months. That’s the fear that comes with pregnancy after loss. I looked at her and smiled through tears. ‘She’s very healthy,’ I told my brave little girl. ‘That’s because Parker and Abby sent her to us,’ I said.”

“I felt a big lump in my throat. It was like looking at an old bouquet of flowers. Except, the flowers were dead, and the heartache still had this slight flowery aroma. I am part of a club. The club that no one wants to be part of, no one wants to discuss. I was called dramatic. I was told to get over it. But how could I? Your love for a baby is NOT defined by gestation age.”